


different

by hawrthiacoopri



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Gen, M/M, hell be in smth im planning sooner or later, i have plans for him, i just have to write it, sorry mikes not in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawrthiacoopri/pseuds/hawrthiacoopri
Summary: “Duh-d-hid you do thuh-that?” Bill asks, his voice bewildered and warm, and Stan has to look away because Bill’s blue eyes are so warm.“Yeah, I did, I think,” Stan says, his voice muffled even though nothing is covering it.Bill rubs at his wrist, keeping his eyes on Stan as he does so, and he exhales a little. “Thuh-hat one f-fuh-felt different,” he says.





	different

**Author's Note:**

> a dumb stenbrough soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate it leaves a color for a day and the first ever time you touch them after you turn ten, it stays forever without fading

Stan first sees that Bill is his soulmate when he’s around fourteen. He’s sitting in his homeroom next to Bill, spacing out, when he grabs Stan's wrist and pulls him up so that he gets out of his seat, since the period is over.

The first touch always stays forever, so there’s a lot of value put on what it is- there are even superstitions and predictions based on where your first mark is.

Stan never considered Bill could ever be his soulmate, since they’ve been friends for so long and Stan's never believed he even had a soulmate, but he looks down absently at his arm, and he sees it- a bracelet of bronze, slightly shimmering pigment all around his left wrist- his dominant wrist. He has no question in his mind who left it there, he can still feel Bill’s wrist on his arm as they walk side by side down the hallways even though it’s long gone, but Stan still cant believe it- Bill Denbrough, his soulmate?  
So he keeps it to himself and doesn’t tell Bill anyways. And Stan, since he’s so obsessed with order and meaning, does not touch Bill for weeks so he can plan how he touches Bill. First of all because he wants it to be special, but mostly because he’s scared. He knew sometimes soulmates didn’t match up- just look at Bev and Ben. Beverly had a bronze shimmering mark too, on her hip, from Bill, and Ben had one on his shoulder, in forest green- Beverly's color. His gaze on Beverly had never changed, he still had a glimmer of hope, but he can’t bear to look at Bill without a feeling of humiliation now, since it only confirms his feeling of being cheated.

So Stan doesn’t touch Bill for fear of that happening to him- there’s already a chance of that happening, though it was thought and proven many people do have multiple soulmates, and only one is true, while the others are one sided. So yeah, there was a chance, a sizable one, that if Stan touched Bill it would leave no mark, the same way when Ben touched Bevvie there would never be a mark (or so they all thought, until Ben ran a hand down Beverly's arm in 1985 after they defeated it and a streak of soft yellowy orange was left behind, and the mark on her waist paled somewhat- though it never disappeared, no, it never did, Ben's just stole some of the luminescence). And there was an even bigger chance that Stan would touch Bill and it would leave a mark, but it was an empty mark, one with no meaning. And there would never be any way of knowing whether that option was the case or not until Stan was rejected by Bill, which was somehow worse than no mark at all.

So Stan waits and doesn’t touch Bill, until finally he works up the courage since he knows exactly where he wants it.

He musters his small self up and he just goes up to sit by Bill on his log in the barrens, and grabs his right wrist with his long, thin fingers.

And Stan holds it there for a little bit of time, just because he’s scared to let go, until he cracks an eye open to see Bill looking at him in amusement and lets go as if he’s been burned. And when he does pull away, there’s a band of pastel, matte (so matte it seems to destroy all light, there’s absolutely no reflection) robin’s-egg blue around Bill’s pale wrist. So Bill looks where Stan is looking, right at Bill’s wrist with a kind of creeping wonder, and his face becomes a sunrise- that is to say, there’s a sort of dawning on it.

“Duh-d-hid you do thuh-that?” Bill asks, his voice bewildered and warm, and Stan has to look away because Bill’s blue eyes are so warm.

“Yeah, I did, I think,” Stan says, his voice muffled even though nothing is covering it.

Bill rubs at his wrist, keeping his eyes on Stan as he does so, and he exhales a little. “Thuh-hat one f-fuh-ffelt different,” he says.

“Different?” Stan looks surprised. Bill nods.

“Yeh-heah, I- I've g-g-g-got. Others. But yuh-hours is dih-d-different.” 

“Hthers?” Stan sounds a little hurt.

Bill just nods and lifts his shirt up a little to show a little handprint on the bottom of his rib in neon red, and Stan knows instinctively its Richie's. And then Bill shows up his other hand- the one Bill says is always covered in paint and he always stuffs in his pocket, Stan realizes- his left one, and the palm and some of the places between the fingers are covered in a soft, satin bluish purple. And that one can only be Eddie, that’s Eddie's favorite color, Stan thinks. Bill lifts up his collar and shows an imprint of pretty forest green pair of lips that Stan recognizes as Beverly's color.

“That’s so many,” Stan breathes. “I don’t have any but yours.” and he holds up his wrist and shows Bill his bracelet of shimmery bronze, and Bill nods.

“That’s okay, though,” he says again, “yours felt different.” and Stan doesn’t question it, and they just hold their marked wrists close as they hold hands by their sides.

And for the next months, its beautiful. Stan suddenly constantly has ever-fading and changing marks all over his body from Bill’s touch. His lips, his arms, his torso, his neck, they’re all covered in where Bills touch and fingers and lips have burned through fabric and skin to make the fiery marks that signify to Stan exactly who loves him the most.

His neck, Stan thinks, is the prettiest, though it is often sore, for Bill’s kisses always get heavier and deeper there, and the little bruises of purple and pink and blue all mingle with the beautiful bronze hues Bill's lips leave with them, and whenever Stan moves his neck in the light of his own room in private they glitter and wink back at him, even in the dark pools of raised, sucked-at skin.

Bill's blue marks from Stan are much less in volume, but the things Stan draws and does with his power over Bill’s body are all beautiful. Bills own marks on Stan or messy, they’re constantly rotating, they’re haphazard- they show Bills inability to literally keep his hands off of Stan for more than a day. Stan's marks are a monument to how careful he is in his touch and his patterns.

For example- Bill’s collarbones, his jaw, the line down his back, and the tips of his ears- they’re all kept perfect pristine with lines and contours of blue. Stan has Bill strip his shirt off once every week so he can renew the fading lines. He has Bill lie on his front and talk to Stan as he takes his two longest fingers and runs up and down Bill's back, up and down, and then on his back, and he traces Bills collarbones the same way and kisses up and down Bills jaw, cleaning it up with his index finger so that there’s a strap of blue around it. He plays with Bill’s hair (sometimes wishing he was rich enough to buy the treatment that makes your hair able to be color-altered by your soulmate, Bill looks so good in Stan's blue) and lets his fingers brush the tips of Bills ear lightly for hours until it works and there are rosy patches of blue. But there are days where Stan lets himself touch Bill however he wants, and he messes up his designs hardcore. They are all smeared and streaked, and Bills back is a mess of lines and finger marks. Bill's face is covered in blue patches from Stan's lips, and his hands and arms are completely blue. There are, of course, other areas, but i’m sure you can imagine just how much Stanley would let himself go on what he likes to think of as cheat days, since they always line up with the days he eats a full three meals and a snack, and sometimes has dessert, too, but he usually discards his dessert to go over to B'ills and hang out.

He sees how the others look at him, he hears the jokes Richie makes about him and his colors, and while he does feel guilty, he can’t help but feel proud. Everything about Bill is good, is strong, is desirable, and Stan gets to have everything about Bill. He gets the good, he gets the strong. And he gets the desirable, especially the desirable. He’s a little scared for this all to end, sure, that he’ll wake up and Bill will tell him he’s ugly and he’s fat and he’s worthless and that he wasted his time. But that day never comes. Bill keeps loving him, touching him. Stan keeps loving Bill and devoting himself to Bill, not touching Bill as much, but yes, touching him.

It never ends, and suddenly they’re twenty seven. They’re both out of school, in their own condo that Bill rents for them. Not married, not yet. Just eternally engaged, until they get the motivation to get married in a way they deem better than the way they were married 13 years ago, when skinny, sick little Stanley Uris grabbed stuttering Bill dead-brother Denbrough’s wrist and there was a mark there.

One day Stan will always remember is a day in November. They turned the heat low, since they are nearly always attached to the other one with a blanket over the both of them and they don’t need much heat, and they’re sprawled out over their California king sized bed while cold light streams in their windows. Stan is doing his ritual of replacing his marks on Bill’s back. That's the only one of two that hasn’t gone- Bill’s collarbone is still there, but his jaw and ears are long gone- soulmate marks are no longer trendy when you hit your twenties- visible ones, at least. They’re like tattoos, they’re unprofessional and seen as bragging. But collarbones and the back are not visible in formal shirts, so Stan keeps them together.

Bill is humming along to the radio as Stan works over his back, wincing occasionally as Stan pops the occasional blackhead on it. Stan's always liked popping blackheads and pimples, especially on Bill, since they left the blue splatters he loved so much.

And so Stan says quietly, “hey, Bill?” and Bill stops humming and says “yeah, peach?” Stan blushes at the old pet name and says in his quiet way, “when you… when we first marked each other, you know… you said mine felt different.” “yes.” Stan keeps his work going, and asks, “what was different?” and Bill cranes his neck to look around and says “what, you mean about the touch?” “yes.” “well, it was on my wrist, Stanley.” Bill feels a swat on his butt and smiles deviously.

“for real, you jerkwad.” “i'm not sure I want to be real if that's what happens when i’m not.” another swat, this time on his shoulder blades. “You know those leave marks, right? Both of those do?” Bill asks, and Stan huffs.

“yes, but i’m assuming no one is gonna be looking at your ass, so i’m not too worried.” Bill bites back laughter- his fiance is too cute for his own good when he’s huffy- and shrugs.

“i dunno, I was assuming you might want to, though.” “answer the question, please.” Stan's voice sounds pained. So Bill turns over, ignoring Stan's chirp of protest, and takes Stan against his chest as they spoon. He simply hums the first few lines of ‘that’s my desire’ by buddy holly in Stan's ear, before saying, “you know how you always feel when you’re about to go on a drop on a roller coaster, and you’re preparing yourself for it, but it isn’t enough and you still have one of those mini heart attacks?” Stan frowns. “No, I don’t ride roller coasters.” the redhead laughs.

“No, of course not, Stanley, but you understand the sentiment, I suppose.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Stan grumbles, but he stops the whining tone when Bill wraps an arm around Stan's waist and pulls him way too close for anyone but Stan's comfort into his chest. His breath ruffles Stan's curls.

“And you know the feeling of seeing something so cute you want to go and steal it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And the one where you do something right and you feel all the pride crash over you? And when you know you have all the answers to the test and you ace it no problem?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Those are the feelings I got when someone put a mark on me,” Bill confirms. “All at once.” Stan frowns and moves his head a little.

“Anyone?” 

“Anyone,” Bill confirms as he begins to press his little kisses all over the back of Stan's neck.

“Not too heavy,” Stan says softly, but Bill only moves a tad lower and kisses harder, where you can see above the collar. “And what do you mean anyone? I asked how mine was different!” Bill just smiles into Stan's neck and presses another kiss into the crook of it, and sighs a little, the most content and loving sigh that Stan had ever heard.

And he says, “Stanley Uris, you big selfish idiot, your mark felt different because it was you who put it there.”


End file.
